


"Silent Shout" & "Enjoy the Silence"

by jendavis



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: 5 Things, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jendavis/pseuds/jendavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt "Steve/Danny, Five Times Steve notice Danny being silent."  I may have gotten a bit carried away with it, in that I wound up doing <i>two</i> of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silent Shout

He'd meant it when he'd said that Danny had a _tone_ , which shouldn't have surprised anyone. Danny, of course, had sputtered in indignation upon hearing it, but that had only proved the point.

Months went by, interviews and arrests and busts and bullets, and through all that daily grind and chaos, Steve was starting to learn the tones of his silences as well.

The first one was the easiest, so glaringly obvious. Steve had it figured out even before realizing that Danny had _tones_ at all, and by the time he _had_ noticed, he'd gotten so accustomed to it that it had barely made the list.

It was the _contrast_ of what came afterwards that really made it stick out.

It was the calm before the storm, all crackling tension and an explosion waiting to happen, hands carding through his own hair, rubbing over his face as he tried to choose the specific string of invective he wanted to open with, whether he should start with the most severe of offenses, or build up to it. Once he got started, he rarely managed to stick to chronological order, but in one instance _did_ manage an impressive alphabetization of complaints.

Steve was starting to get the suspicion that Danny only ever used it on him, the melodramatic fucking princess.

\---

It had been an insane few days, long hours, _four_ separate busts, and a mountain of paperwork they'd only _finally_ made a dent in. And it was only _Wednesday_.

Steve had driven halfway to Danny's that night, when he realized that Danny hadn't said a single word. And yeah, maybe there was something he'd missed, maybe he _had_ been a little rough with the second gunrunner. But Danny hadn't exploded yet.

The suspense was killing Steve, and after a few miles, he glanced sidelong and asked, "Danno, what is it?"

"Huh? Nothing." Danny was frowning, eyes shut like he had a headache, and shook his head.

"You haven't complained about anything since we left the office. Everything all right?"

"Well yeah," Danny opened his eyes just long enough to roll them derisively. "Otherwise I'd be _complaining_ about it, wouldn't I?"

A few quiet minutes later, Steve turned his truck into Danny's lot. He was just pulling up to let him out when he realized he hadn't noticed any motion, either.

Danny's head was hanging chin to chest as he slept.

\---

Danny doesn't worry quietly, but he _can_ reach critical mass once he's run out of things to say. Or when Grace is nearby.

He sits by her bedside, watching her sleep. Says nothing as the nurse comes in to check her temperature, and stays that way until late that evening when Rachel's rushing in. Straight from the airport, by the looks of it. Steve wants to know if her romantic weekend away has been cut short over a bad fever, but he's not going to ask. Danny called her _yesterday_ , and she's only been two islands away.

It's uncharitable as hell- Steve _likes_ Rachel- but maybe he's been hanging out in the corner of the room for the past hour and wants to go home. Maybe it's just that Danny's been rubbing off on him.

Besides. In a few hours, when they're drinking beer out on the lanai, after Danny's been promised another hundred times that Grace really _is_ going to be okay enough that he tentatively starts to believe it? Danny's going to have a field day with it. There's no sense in jumping the gun.

Because Steve, despite what Danny says, _is_ capable of showing restraint.

\---

Most of Danny's silences are fairly pragmatic, but there are times Steve's sure that they're deliberate as hell.

Like the Kramer case, where they're trying to unravel seven years of dodgy tax records to prove the connection between the offshore accounts and the foundation's director of development.

They'd had enough proof to obtain a warrant three hours ago. They could've been out there, made the arrest, booked Arnie Blaylock, turned in their initial reports by now. But Danny wants to make sure the coffin gets nailed shut on this guy.

It's ridiculous. Blaylock's got a hell of a lawyer, and he's going to be in minimum security, financial kingpin resort prison for _maybe_ eighteen months when all is said and done. And it's nearly five on a _Friday_.

Chin and Kono took off thirty minutes ago, but Danny hasn't looked up from the file folders in two hours, now. He hasn't said a fucking word.

Steve stares at the clock and considers shooting it, just to hear the sound.

\---

Steve still doesn't know if Danny's aware that he does it, but the first few moments on a bad crime scene, when there's a body still lying there, there's this span of a few seconds when even Danny's _movements_ are silent. Steve used to chalk it up to respect- he's had that ingrained through experience as well, but now he's not so sure. There's more to it than that.

Danny's silence has this _weight_ to it like it's deliberate, like he's taking the time to remind himself that what he's looking at is a terrible thing, like it's something he can't afford to become inured to.

Steve won't admit it, isn't so fucked in the head that he's going to give Danny the suspicion that he's even thinking about it, but every time it happens, now, he waits for Danny to speak first.

He's not really a cop, not really a detective, but he knows how to listen when it's important.


	2. Enjoy the Silence

Grace comes first, Danny always says, and maybe it's because Steve doesn't have kids, but it's always a bit surprising just how much Danny _means_ it.

When she's there with them, he's always reaching out, brushing her hair, swinging her around or holding her hand, and when she's more than three feet away, he still looks like he's _about_ to. He's _always_ talking to her, and even when he's just listening, he does it so intently that it's loud as hell.

When she's out of range, though, when she's playing with the other kids at the beach, Danny just watches her. The first few times Steve noticed, he'd chalked it up to Danny's usual overprotective paranoia. The first few times she'd gone out on a board, Danny hadn't even denied it, but that was probably because he was bitching up a red streak under his breath the entire time and hadn't heard Steve mention it.

But even when she's not in mortal danger, he stays focused on her, and sometimes he's silent, like he's completely in awe and trying to burn her every movement and laugh into his memory.

It's about as peaceful as he gets, and Steve's not going to begrudge him that.

\---

Danny's good at what he does, and more importantly, he's good with people. He knows when to joke just enough to put a witness at ease, never so much that they start feeling like they've been put on the spot. He knows when to shout- pretty much all the time, except for when he doesn't. He knows when to lean over the interview table, how to loom over a man three times his size and intimidate the _hell_ out of him with a low monotone.

He knows when to speak; quiet and constant when the victim needs it, prompting them through their description of their attacker, and he knows how to be silent and patiently calm when they need a few minutes to catch their breath, get their thoughts together.

Times like this, Steve usually waits outside, when he can. He always thinks he's going to fuck it all up.

\---

It takes a few months for it to happen, but sometimes, when they've got their suspect in for questioning, Danny steps aside and lets Steve run the show.

Danny usually leans against the wall with crossed arms, watching silently as Steve makes inquiries, observations, deals, demands and threats.

The first few times, it was because he was too furious with Steve to even speak.

After a while, Danny began to maintain that it was easier being the good cop in their "psychotic little equation"

Now though- right _now_ \- Danny's got this grin threatening to break out across his face, as Steve makes the second of three tweakers cry within ten minutes. If he opens his mouth to speak up, the grin is going to win, and Danny would be the last person on the planet to accidentally let loose that he's actually enjoying himself.

It would take all the wind out of his sails later, when Danny's red-faced and ranting as they head towards the dealer's hangout.

Steve doesn't press, not on Danny, anyway. Right now he's got to get the sniveling tweaker freaked out enough to give them an actual _address_.

\---

Steve knows all Danny's tones, and almost all his silences. There's this one, though, that Steve hasn't figured out, and it's been driving him nuts since it started popping up a few weeks ago.

It's this one right here.

It's a Thursday night, getting late, and they're mostly just staring at the weekend surf report on the televisions above the bar. It's not the kind of thing that Danny's normally interested in. It's exactly the sort of thing that _should_ set him off on a tirade about the ocean being in league with his daughter to give him a heart attack before he turns forty, but none is forthcoming.

The television above goes dark for a moment in between the station's logo and the first of the ads, and it's hard to tell form this angle, but Danny's angled so that he can probably see Steve out of the corner of his eye. Steve only sees Danny's expression for a second- there's a ridiculous home exercise gimmick being demonstrated, and the voiceover is telling them to _call now_ \- but Steve's barely seeing it.

He's thinking about Danny's silence. It's not too different from the way he watches Grace when she's consorting with the ocean to bring about Danny's demise, but there's a world of difference, a tension to the silence emanating from the bar stool next to him.

It's giving Steve the usual weird sudden thrill that starts in his gut before spreading up his spine, and he's almost _sure_ that he's got it, now- it's been quietly heading this way for weeks- but still. He needs a few seconds here.

In a minute, he'll get it together, breathe, and turn his head. He'll smile like the answer doesn't matter, in case it's not the one he's been hoping it is, and he'll ask Danny what he's thinking about, or maybe just why he's being so quiet.

It's daunting as fuck, though.

He's reluctant to break the silence, but he really _wants_ to.


End file.
